Abacus

organisation provided the opportunity for him to vent his anger and frustration at his parents’ brutal slaying. It also provided him with the closest thing to inner peace… revenge. Revenge directed at the evil on Earth. Those, who if left unchecked would leave a trail of countless victims throughout their treacherous lives, and for their sins had forfeited their right to live.
    He looked across at the passenger’s seat, on which sat his second and more compact silver mobile phone. This phone was untraceable, undetectable and unidentifiable. He carefully guarded this phone and never let anyone touch it. Most people thought it was a phone his kids called him on or vice versa, but this phone was a direct line to his secret life with DL. Randall never phoned, he only communicated via text. If he needed to speak with them, he sent a text and waited for the return call. These were the rules, and the rules were never to be broken. The mature gravelly male voice on the other end of the DL phone, only known to him as Noel, was like family to him, like a father. He was the only person on the planet who truly understood Randall, and yet the pair had never met.
    Det ective Randall had experience, people skills and guile. This made him a great leader and a very good detective. He enjoyed talking to people, relished the challenge of outwitting criminals, and had an amazing insight into human nature. He had a saying: “Every day at work I get at least one good laugh, the day that stops is the day it’s over for me.” This was of course a total smoke screen. He could never leave his profession, whilst the Police Force would carry on without him, Deliver Live needed him, and he needed Deliver Live. The reality was that they were both deeply committed to each other, and for DL to continue and succeed undetected, he had to be as equally committed in his everyday role as Chief of Detectives.
    R andall pulled his shiny Merc into the compound of Ashfield Police Station. His ex-wife Michelle was not supportive of his choice of vehicle as she thought it was too difficult for their two children to get into the backseat, but Randall didn’t care. He loved the sporty two-door look of it. It was reliable, classy and had real personality about it, not unlike himself, he often thought. As he carefully reversed into a free space, he looked across the car park to see Lee Hobbs, a fellow detective, had also just arrived. Randall reached into the backseat for his soft leather briefcase, stuffed the silver mobile into his front pants pocket and pulled his black general work phone from the car-charging cradle on the dash. Pulling his suit jacket off the passenger’s side headrest, he looked in the direction of Detective Hobbs and gave an acknowledging nod. Both men walked towards the back of the police station where they met at the back door, as if pre rehearsed.

    CHAPTER 4 - MANGO MAN

    Detective Senior Constable Lee Hobbs was a giant of a man. Standing six feet five inches and broad at the shoulder, he pretty much filled the space of an entire doorframe. Being only twenty-eight years of age and having just seven years experience in the force, he showed knowledge and maturity well beyond his years. Hobbs was generally a placid, quiet man, however, when upset or agitated became quite a handful. This aggressive behaviour was at odds with his strict Catholic faith. Hobbs justified his heavy handedness by saying, “The bible says, blessed are the peacekeepers. I’m just doing God’s work.” It was this contradiction in character that Randall loved. Of all the detectives under his command, Randall enjoyed working with Hobbs the most. He was a once in a lifetime work partner who could be totally relied upon and trusted in any situation.
    Entering the hallway at the rear of the station, the men heard a sobbing noise coming from the direction of the nearby cell complex. “Sounds like someone’s feeling a little down, Detective,” Randall said, smiling. “How about we cheer him up a little, eh?”
    “ You’re always the Good Samaritan, boss,” Hobbs said enthusiastically.
    “After you , Detective,” Randall said, extending his arm out in invitation. Bruce Jones, a young constable, was the custody officer seated at the desk opposite the small holding cells. “Morning, Bruce,” Randall greeted in a loud boisterous voice. “Sounds like you have one unhappy customer this morning, constable.”
    Before Bruce co uld reply, Randall was